


Prom Night

by multipletabs



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Morosexual Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multipletabs/pseuds/multipletabs
Summary: Peter and Dylan spend prom night at Dylan's house alone together. What could possibly happen?





	Prom Night

**Author's Note:**

> Look, someone had to do it. Maxdonado rights!

“So, Pete, when did you, like... know, y’know?”

“Uh, know what?”

“That you were, like, gay or whatever?

“That I was--? Oh.”

When Dylan invited Peter over to his house on prom night, he thought it would be related to the documentary. That Dylan had some new information to share. When Dylan asked Peter to stop recording, Peter had expected him to want to talk about stuff he didn’t want in the doc, like the way he privately explained to Peter the real reason why he hadn’t watched the doc yet, but this question in particular wasn’t quite what Peter had in mind. 

“I… I don’t really know,” Peter says. He wishes there was one specific moment or one specific guy that gave Peter his gay awakening. But it wasn’t just one guy. In fact… it was a lot. Mike in 6th grade, who moved away before 7th. Everybody at school knew about his crush on Ashley Hanson by now, and sure, the guy was attractive enough to make any teenage boy question his sexuality, but Peter was questioning that way before he first laid eyes on him in his freshman year of high school. But there’s also the crush he’s been fostering on this one certain skinny kid with Dumbo ears and bad fashion sense for a few years now. And maybe, just maybe, a small crush that has formed over the past few months on a dimwitted stoner wrongfully expelled for a crime he didn’t commit. 

But Peter is a professional, or at least he tries his hardest to be. He can push those feelings to the side, squash them down, and forget about them. Hopefully. 

“Hello? Earth to Peter,” Dylan snaps his fingers in front of Peter’s face, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, sorry,” Peter says, trying to get his thoughts back on track. “I guess, there wasn’t just, like, one moment? It was more like a slow realization through middle school that I was checking out guys way more than girls, so it was just sort of like, ‘I guess I’m gay then?’ I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“No, man, I totally get it,” Dylan replies in a way that says he totally doesn’t, “and, like, I’m proud of you, dude. That takes serious balls.” 

Trying to be supportive, Dylan slaps a meaty hand against Peter’s back. The force of which proves to be a bit too much for Peter’s smaller frame and he lurches forward a bit. Dylan’s hand lingers on Peter’s back a second too long as he rubs a small circle against it before quickly pulling his hand back to rest at his side. 

“Thanks,” Peter winces, his hand touching the spot where Dylan whacked him, “I mean, I’m not really out, but everyone who watched the doc now knows about my crush on Ashley Hanson, so…”

Dylan coughs, choking on his drink. “Waaaait a minute, dude, Ashley Hanson?” He’s laughing now, and Peter’s face scrunches in annoyment. “Dumbass football star Ashley Hanson? The same Ashley Hanson who tweets shit like,” Dylan makes a face and affects his voice to sound like a cliché Californian airhead, “ _‘bae me, baby’_ and _’we would rather not be able to see’_ THAT Ashley Hanson, dude?”

Peter’s face is bright red. He can’t bear to look at Dylan right now, opting instead to stare at his shoes. Peter takes his glasses off to rub his eyes. He responds, “Yes, that Ashley Hanson.” Dylan’s laugh morphs into a full-on cackle. Peter’s scowl only deepens. He crosses his arms. “Look, I know he’s, like, a real douchebag, but… he’s… he’s hot!” Peter leans back deeper into Dylan’s couch. “God, why am I like this?” Peter asks the ceiling in his smallest voice possible.

Dylan wipes a tear from his eye. “Dude, no, dude, it’s-- it’s cool, bro,” Dylan says, desperately trying to contain his laughter. “It’s just… shit, I don’t know. You’re, like, a smart guy, and Ashley Hanson is… Ashley Hanson.” 

“I’m well aware. There’s no helping who you crush on, I suppose,” Peter says, remembering all the intense close-ups he’s filmed of Dylan’s eyes, the long shots of nothing but his face, and the dramatic shots of him walking along the beach in the evening. He claimed they were all just for the documentary, some filler footage to improve the tone, but were they really _just_ that? Peter still isn’t completely sure. 

He glances over at Dylan, who’s regained his composure, mostly, and is setting his drink back down on the coffee table. Even now, after being thoroughly roasted by him for his taste, Peter can’t help but think how flattering this lighting is for Dylan. The living room light looming overhead illuminates his cheekbones and casts gentle shadows on his face, causing him to stand out amidst the darkness of the rest of the house. Peter’s certain Dylan will look great in the takes they filmed earlier. Memories of watching Dylan slamming his face into a loaf of bread for no reason, farting on babies, and pulling down the pants of dads creep their way back into Peter’s mind. And just like every other time Peter has thought of these tragically embarrassing “pranks,” they prove unable to quell his budding crush on Dylan. Again, Peter can’t help but wonder why he is the way he is.

“So, like, if you’re gay,” Dylan’s deep voice once again shaking Peter from his thoughts, “is Sam gay? You two are, like, a thing, right?” 

Peter furrows his brow and shakes his head. “No, no, we’re not dating.” Dylan looks genuinely surprised at that, but Peter doesn’t notice. “Sam is… I don’t know what Sam is, come to think of it. He knows I’m gay, but he’s never, like, come out to me or anything, so who knows? But we’re not dating.” 

“Oh,” Dylan says, plainly, “that’s cool, I guess. I could have sworn… but that’s cool.”

The two sit in uncomfortable silence for what feels like an eternity to Peter, but, in reality, is closer to a minute. 

Peter clears his throat. “Dylan… what is… this all about, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Dylan shrugs. “I dunno. Wanted some company on prom night. Wanted someone to talk to.”

“No, I get that, but why this topic in particular?”

Dylan takes a moment to think about it. Peter can see the wheels in his head turning. “I just wanted to talk about this, like, more… serious stuff, I guess. Like, I’d kill and die for all the Wayback Boys, they’re my homies for life, you know?” Peter nods solemnly. “It’s just… I can’t ever talk about real serious shit like this with them, ‘cause they always turn it into a joke. And sometimes a man just wants to, like, reflect and shit.” 

Peter’s still confused, but nods his head anyway. “I see. But I’m still not sure what that has to do with me being gay?” 

Dylan rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Pete, you’re a smart guy.”

Peter just shrugs, incredulous.

“Look, I know you like me.”

Peter blanches. “I-- I-- I do not!” He stammers out in return.

“C’mon, dude,” Dylan chuckles back, “it’s pretty obvious. I mean, like, all the close-ups you do? I act like I don’t notice so you won’t freak out, but I can totally tell when you’re keeping the camera on me for, like, waaay longer than you need to.” Peter bites his thumb, looking like he’s trying not to shit his pants. Dylan notices this and laughs again. “Relax, dude, I know I’m, like, a sex god, it’s fine.”

Peter flings himself backwards dramatically against the couch and drapes his arm over his eyes, face burning like fire. “Dylan, I swear, it’s just a stupid little crush, I know you and Mackenzie are like--”

“Broken up.”

“Yeah, but you probably want to--”

“No, dude, listen, we’re, like, done for real now. It sucks, yeah, but, like... there’s also someone else that’s caught my eye.” 

Peter shoots back up, confusion plastered across his face, his eyes meeting Dylan’s for the first time in a while. “What are you saying, Dylan?”

Now it’s Dylan’s turn to start blushing, and Peter finds the sight incredibly strange. He’s seen many different sides of Dylan over the past months while they were shooting _Vandal_ , but bashful is a side of Dylan he hasn’t seen before. In fact, he thinks it’s a side of Dylan that no one has seen before.

Dylan laughs, his eyes focused squarely on his half-full drink on the coffee table. “I dunno, man, it’s like… I always thought I was 100% straight, you know? And then I start spending all this time with you, and, like, shit, this is gonna sound gay as hell,” he laughs again, but his nerves are clear, “but I started noticing your cheekbones and shit, and how good you look with your glasses off. Like, you’d take them off and just put them in your mouth while you’re just talking to me like it’s nothing? How am I supposed to feel about that, bro?” Peter didn’t think it was possible for him to blush any harder, but the night is proving to be full of surprises. “What I’m trying to say is, like… for a dude, you’re kind of hot, dude.” 

Dylan’s eyes meet with Peter’s again, and before either of them can catch themselves, they find their faces slowly gravitating closer towards the other. Peter can feel Dylan’s hot breath on his face, their lips are about to meet, before he finds himself all too aware of the situation and panics.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second, please,” Peter says, straining his neck as he yanks his head back away from Dylan’s face. “How do I know this isn’t one of your pranks? I don’t want to end up on some fucking video on your channel, Dylan.”

“Pete, dude, can you chill for, like, once in your life?” Dylan snorts. “I guess I can’t blame you for thinking that, but I swear this isn’t a prank. I know I’m an ass, but I would never mess with gay people’s feelings like that, that shit is beneath me, bro.”

“Dylan, you’ve farted on babies. Several times. Over several different videos.”

“Yeah, and that shit’s fuckin’ funny. But messin’ with gay people ain’t.”

Peter doesn’t quite follow, but still the sentiment somewhat soothes his nerves anyway, somehow. “So, uh… are we really going to do this? Like, are you sure? We don’t have to, or anything, but if you want--”

Before Peter can finish his sentence, Dylan presses his lips against his and they’re kissing. And it’s… kind of awkward. Peter can feel the start of Dylan’s stubble, barely just starting to sprout from his skin, scratching against his face. Peter’s glasses are definitely pressing into Dylan’s face, and he’s not sure if either of them are capable of breathing through their nose, but as far as kisses go, it’s at least better than his first kiss. 

Peter takes a moment to count his blessings that his first kiss wasn’t with Dylan Maxwell, of all people. But it _was_ with Pat Micklewaite, during a truth or dare at a party the summer before 8th grade. It was a quick peck on the lips that lasted all of five seconds, and nothing horrible had happened, until Pat made sure to never speak to Peter again, despite the two of them destined to sit next to each other in every class due to the proximity of their surnames, so maybe time had soured Peter’s view on the kiss, and Pat, just a little. 

Dylan pulls his mouth away, and Peter’s grateful for the opportunity to take a breath. “Sorry to just spring that on you, dude,” Dylan says, also clearly taking a breath of his own, “but I know if I had let you keep talking, you wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

Peter huffs out a small laugh. “It’s… it’s cool, Dylan. I mean, it’s still really weird, ‘cause I never thought I’d kiss you, ever. Or that you’d want to kiss me, ever. But… yeah.”

“I get it, man. It’s all hella weird to me, too,” Dylan chuckles. “But, uh, you wanna try again?”

“Oh… uh, um, sure, I guess.” Peter takes off his glasses this time, hoping to alleviate some of the awkwardness.

The second kiss is much better than their first. Dylan clearly has more experience with this and takes the lead, so to speak, and Peter’s grateful because he has no idea what to do, or where to put his hands, or… anything, really. Dylan is surprisingly gentle, too, as weird as it sounds. He’s not rough, or forcing his tongue into Peter’s mouth, which, considering the way Peter saw Dylan kiss Mackenzie, he was kind of expecting. For a split second, Peter wonders if Dylan would ever kiss _him_ in such a way, but that very same thought also frightens Peter in a way he can’t quite put his finger on. He shelves the thought, and decides it’s better to focus on what’s happening now than some scary hypothetical. And what’s happening now is… nice. Warm. Weirdly tender for a kiss from Dylan Maxwell. Peter doesn’t have a lot of kisses under his belt, but this is easily his best kiss so far. That thought terrifies him, too. But before they can truly get into it, the kiss is over.

The two boys sit in silence for a minute, merely staring at one another. Dylan’s the first to break the silence. “Y’know Pete, you’re not a bad kisser, even though you probably have, like, no practice,” he says with a laugh.

Peter feigns offense. “Fuck you, man!” He slugs Dylan playfully in the arm, though Dylan barely reacts to Peter’s small fist. “...You’re right, though.”

“See? I’m a fuckin’ genius.”

“Let’s not get carried away here.” 

Dylan pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “Oh shit, dude, the after prom party’s gotta be started by now. Wanna go?”

The sudden shift in topic catches Peter off guard. “Sure, what the hell,” he shrugs. It’s not like he had anything better to do anyway. He had spent the day home alone editing footage for the doc and would have continued doing so well on into the night if it weren’t for Dylan calling and asking him to come over. 

Dylan mumbles out an affirmative and heads off to grab his keys. Peter falls back against one of the couch pillows. He just kissed Dylan fucking Maxwell. Twice. How is he going to tell anybody about this? There’s no way they’d believe him. Hell, Peter hardly believes it himself. He strongly considers keeping it to himself. Sam still makes fun of him for crushing on Ashley Hanson. He’s made a habit out of reading Ashley’s latest tweets out loud to Peter in his best thespian voice. There’s no way Peter would ever live it down if Sam found out he had kissed Dylan. 

Dylan wanders back into the living room. “You ready to bounce, bro?”

“Hey, wait a sec,” Peter replies, something still eating at him inside. “What about… all of what just happened? What does that all, like, mean? What does that make--”

“Dude, I’m gonna stop you there.” Dylan interrupts, “like, don’t get me wrong, tonight was nice, like, kind of really nice, actually, but… let’s not make it, like, weird.” Dylan gently shakes his head, his eyes shut. Part of Peter wonders what thoughts he’s trying to shove down in his mind. “Let’s just, like, go with the flow. We’ll thrash this fucking party tonight, and, like, whatever happens afterwards happens.”

“I can do that, I think.” Peter nods, feeling slightly comforted that he’s not yet locked into a relationship with Dylan. 

“Awesome, let’s bounce. They’re gonna be so stoked to see us.”

“Yeah, and I bet I can grab some great stuff for the doc, too. And hey, are you sure I shouldn’t call my mom to drive us? You did have some of that whiskey.”

Dylan scoffs. “Fuck, no, dude. Last thing I wanna do is mack on you then be forced to sit in the backseat of your mom’s fucking station wagon or whatever, all, ‘No, Ms. Maldonado, I totally wasn’t just making out with your cute-- your-- your son,’” Dylan tries to cover his misstep with a fake cough, but Peter heard it, a faint smile spreads across his lips. “Whatever, like I’m sure that’s one of the layers of hell, bro.”

“Okay, okay, I see your point,” Peter concedes. “Just don’t crash into anything, please?”

“Dude, it was like half a glass an hour ago, we’ll be fiiine. I keep tellin’ you, you gotta relax, Pete.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his arms up in defeat. “Lead the way, Dylan.” Peter grabs his camera and backpack, and exits out the front door Dylan has been holding open for him. 

Peter sits in silence in the front seat of Dylan’s car. Dylan himself is uncharacteristically silent as well, focusing on the road instead of telling one of his dumbass stories about some trouble he and the Wayback Boys got into like he usually does while driving. Peter uses the opportunity to pull out his camera and record some footage of the houses and cars they pass along the way. And if he happens to focus the camera on the way Dylan grips the steering wheel, or the way the moonlight mixes with the streetlights on Dylan’s face, then, well… it never hurts to have more B-roll footage.

**Author's Note:**

> god I'm sorry if Dylan was OOC or anything, but hey, you try writing around Dylan Maxwell's immense heterosexuality


End file.
